


Blogger, Entry 1: The Mystery of JohnLock

by I_AM_FAN_DOMED



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Boys In Love, Cock Tease, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, John Watson's Blog, Love Confessions, M/M, Mrs. Hudson Ships It, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Romance, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Being a Drama Queen, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper Friendship, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson Being Idiots, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 05:46:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4694294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_AM_FAN_DOMED/pseuds/I_AM_FAN_DOMED
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Throughout their tremendous adventures, Sherlock begins to feel something every time he's around John. He has NEVER felt this way before. He never felt his stomach almost ache... He never thought he engine running mind would slow down at the thought of him. He never thought his body would betray him like this. </p><p>What should he do? Should he approach him or watch as John chase skirts?</p><p>*If you don't like this kind of stuff, don't read.*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1: The Blog

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my fellow Fandomers!!! As you know I am the Woman and I will be presenting you with a story I just made up of Sherlock and John Watson relationship. Now we all know how this show is super amazing. My favorite was "A Scandal in Begravia"...because of the sexy, smart, Irene Adler aka The Woman. Oh I do love that show...
> 
> Before I get off track, this would be the first Sherlock Fanfiction I've done so if you have any ideas, please tell me. 
> 
> I do not own any of the character of Sherlock (BBC). All copy right goes to BBC network.

_ _

John Watson drinking tea while on his blog. (This is drawn as a animated Sherlock. I know awesome!)

* * *

 

_"I cannot begin to fathom why I'm doing this. It appears that I can make theses blogs private so I have a lot to get off my chest. After the "death" of Sherlock, I've felt something come between us lately. Especially after Mary, he became more protective of me. He never told me once before to stay while he does the investigation. Even last week, he told me to watch the damn telly while he finds a serial killer. He brought me many teas that tasted awful...He actually tried to get me a dog because he said, in quote, 'You were in war, and dogs are professionally trained help a fragile minds like yourself'._

_I don't know why he would care. It's Sherlock. He cares more about that bloody violin than any human being._

_The worst thing is that I felt something lately too. I've felt love for Sherlock. I don't know why exactly. I live with most irritating dick in the world and yet I still care about him. Damn him for making this so difficult. I never said to him but he is sometimes, not an ass. He's my best friend and I made sure that I'm not gay. I've dated many woman and married one of them... So I'm sure this feeling would go away._

_Though, I have to make an investigation of my own; Just to make sure, it is nothing. The case of Sherlock. This case is going to be difficult. I can't read Sherlock like he can read me but I can surely look for clues. I will give you updates throughout the week of the upcoming Christmas day. This concludes my blog for today..."_

_-Dr. Watson_

**SEND**

He clicked the send button, then closed his computer. 

_I am not gay._

John nodded to himself, trying to remind himself that as he set his computer in the nightstand drawer beside him. Tomorrow it'll be 7 days before Christmas day. Maybe he'll hang out with Sherlock just to see if his friend is changing into a human. John smiled slightly at the thought, then clicked off the lamp, and laid down comfortably in his cotton pillow. 


	2. Sherlock's Mind Palace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's see how the detective feels!!
> 
> __  
> Sherlock POV for the rest of the story

**Day 1: December 18th**

**1am**

The man peeled his all seeing eyes, and looked around his bedroom. The lights peeked from each half closed window blinds right into his tired eyes, earning a groan to erupt from his throat. Another day he begins to wonder what is wrong with him. He wondered why his body was betraying him so much. Every time, he is around John Watson he felt something strange that he never felt with anyone before...Well maybe a little with  _The Woman,_ but never this much. He even looked online to see what this feeling was and it kept saying love.

_Love?_

_How could I feel love?_

He thought about this for months, but he gets nowhere. He goes to his mind palace frequently, and all he sees is the word love. He can't believe that it's true. He can't. He can't let this distraction ruin the results of his work.

Sherlock sighs, as he leans forward using his right hand as leverage. He walked out with nothing but a blanket to cover his nude body while holding his nicely pressed black suit into the bathroom. Sherlock hung his suit on the coat hook, then he ran the cold water and let his body adjust to its temperature. This is how he feels everyday. Cold. And surely everyone reminds him how much he can be cold and heartless. But that cold feeling slowly starts to subside when he's around John. He feels warmer than usual. Of course, John tells him that he can be an ass... though he didn't feel like a freak anymore.

The human part of him goes away immediately around other people. Like instinct. But when Sherlock is around John, he feels a little more human.

He groaned at the thought then got out of the shower. He got dressed and walked out down the hallway, into the kitchen past John. The doctor looked different today. He wore this ridiculous reindeer and snowflake sweater. He had to admit it did look rather...cute.

_Dammit, Sherlock._

_Get your act together!!!_

John looked up from chopping his onions. "Good morning" John said like a cheerful child.

The detective looked over questionably ,then sat in his old chair. "Why are you wearing that ridiculous sweater, John? Don't tell me it's-"

"Christmas season, Sherlock. You know, the most wonderful time of the year." He said, continuing to cut his onions and the rest of his vegetables. Sherlock rolled his "You want an omelette?"

"I want a client!" He stood up, pacing.

_You want John!_

"Shut up." He grumbled.

"What?" He asked confusingly, as he poured his egg into the sizzling pan.

"Nothing... yes. The omelette, please." The detective stuttered lightly. John still expressed a perplexed appearance, though he continued with his cooking. "Alright" the doctor retorted. "You know, no clients may be a good thing."

Sherlock looked out the window.

"How so?"

"I don't know. You probably need this time to mingle with others..." John said in a doubtful tone.

The detective made a daunted face, not expecting him to say that. "Are you mental, John? I need a client... Something that would quench my thirst of adventure! I need the least irritating police officers and George to call me for a case." He scowled, having his violin and bow. He could see John face turn into a slight frown as he continued cooking. Sherlock watched how he perfectly flipped his omelette and scooped it out of the pan into the plate.

"You're an ass, you know that?" John quoted from many other times.

Sherlock wanted to smile at his remark, but he kept a still expression. "I know. That's why you love me." He said in a joking manner, pressing his bow against the strings.  John chucked lightly, placing the other omelette on the other plate. The doctor picked up the both and walked over with each plate. "Your breakfast."

"Place it on the table." Sherlock asked, starting to ride the bow against each string, playing a tune he calls, The Mystery of Romance.

John sat down in his chair, and started eating.

Then footsteps was heard from the stairs, then Ms. Hudson came through the door with a tray of lemon tea.

"Shut up." Sherlock randomly said.

"What?" She asked.

"You were thinking... it's painful watching you form a question." The detective responded plainly, never once wavering his focus.

John stood and grabbed the tray from Ms. Hudson and placed it on the kitchen counter. "Be nice Sherlock."

"John, why are you wearing a Christmas sweater? Christmas is in a week." The elderly woman sat in Sherlock's chair. John responded with a proud smile as he walked back into the living room. "I wanted this week to be special, actually...  I want to spend time with my best friends."

"Oooh..." Ms. Hudson grinned, lightly clapping. "You hear that Sherlock?"

"...What? Oh, yes...sorry. I keep forgetting I'm someone's best friend." He placed his violin beside him, then started writing the each note he played on his composing sheet.

_Smooth, Sherlock._

Sherlock grumbled, then felt a buzzing in his pants. He fished his hand through his pocket and took out his phone to see a text from....Gavin? No, it's George!

_We have a case, Sherlock. A couple's murdered and found in the garbage. Sending address now._  
_-Greg_

_Sending..._

Sherlock looked at it for a moment, then jumped up in the air like a bouncing child, cheering. Ms. Hudson and John looked over to him sharing a similar expression of confusion. The detective looked back at them, then grabbed his trench coat from the back of his chair.

"We have a case, John. Two people killed in their apartment.. Yes! This is brilliant!" He said as he rushed out. It was also another distraction. He can't bear to stay in that apartment any longer. John's vacant mind is the thing he envies the most. How could he not be thinking about this at all?! Sherlock's mind is like engine going on and on, never stopping. But John can turn it on and off whenever he likes. 

"Coming"

John sighed as he got up from his seat, and grabbed his coat. Ms.Hudson looked sympathetic at the doctor and said,

"Good luck with your week."

**~~8~~**

**About 4 hours later**

"Come on, John!" 

This is easily the most easiest and boring case Sherlock has ever taken. He could have easily solved it within minutes so he bluffed. He just couldn't stay at that apartment. With John talking about spending time with him, it'll make his lying difficult. 

"I'm coming!" He shouted back as he and Sherlock ran after dark figure further ahead of them. "Who are we running after, exactly?"

"The Killer, obviously." Sherlock replied. He heard John scoff behind him. 

"I know, it's the killer but who?" 

"The girl's ex-boyfriend, Marcus." The detective saw how the suspect ran down the right block, so he ran a bit faster.  "How do you know it's Marcus?" John asked confusing; very much like other times when he's adorably confused. Sherlock stopped right at the corner, holding his hand out in front of his friend as a halt. He watched how the suspect ran into this abandon warehouse, then looked over to him. "Why are we stopping?"

"Remember when we were at the girl's mother house. We saw nothing but her and Marcus pictures across the fireplace. The mother described to us as them being in a perfect relationship until Marcus started drugs.  The girl ended the relationship, though he never stopped following her.  You could tell from her collarbone that he hit her with the same hammer on the scene. When the girl got him arrested, apparently an old relative bailed him...I was thinking it was sibling but no, the mother would be preferable." Sherlock explained. "When the girl entered another relationship, he of course, found out. He waited until they were both alone at night then Marcus climbed the side building, came into their apartment. Then he throws them out a window. That's not all, is it? It's about where he goes? From what the mother said about his drug habits, she said he goes to a warehouse near the apartment. Within the first two hours, I search every warehouse in the area searching for signs and it lead here. Obviously." He ended, looking at John's vacant face. 

"You staged this?" John asked.

"Yes."

"You got that from talking with the girl's sobbing mother, pictures, and a bruise?" The doctor inquired. 

"Yup... Now I need you to call Gavin. Tell him to bring his least annoying officers."

Sherlock requested about to turn the corner into the house, but he felt John grab his arm. "I'm not leaving you... That kid may be armed."

"I'll be fine, John. From what I've seen, he may be high now."

"Which makes it all the more reason for me to go with you." John retorts. 

"Fine. Call Gavin first!" The detective sighed, then he ran towards the warehouse. If Sherlock could see, the expression on John's face would make him laugh. He ran quietly into the broken down building, looking at the dark and gloomy hallways. The stairs was hardly stable and the walls were caving in. Sherlock looked around, then he looked at the floor. It contains fresh prints of mud down the hall. He looked down but it was pitch dark... Sherlock looked back, then proceeded forward. Once down the corner, he looked and saw nothing but broken glass on the floors from the cabinets. Sherlock looked at glass seeing how they were shuffled aside leading behind the counter. 

"Sherlock!?" 

_Dammit..._

Marcus stood quickly from behind the counter with a gun in his hand. The detective knew that probably from the drugs, his trigger finger is a bit shaky so he looked for anything to deflect the bullet. Then thankfully he saw an iron pan on the counter. 

"Get away from me!" Marcus yelled.  

"Sherlock." John came around into the kitchen with his gun aimed immediately towards Marcus.

"Put the gun down, Marcus. No one needs to die today." The detective gradually moved towards the counter,  glancing back at John. He already had the gun loaded and he could see his trigger finger twitching. That made him wonder again. Does John love-?

_No! Stop it, Sherlock!!!_

_Not. In. Love!_

_You are a high functioning psychopath... Not a bouncing puppy._

The detective was too busy waging war with himself, the kid still yelling then out of nowhere John tackles Sherlock to the ground. He was so confused at the moment, he didn't realize John had saved him from a bullet in the brain. He didn't stop there either. John, who was on top of him, aimed and shot Marcus in the shoulder. The boy feel down, yelling out in pain, trying to stop the blood with his naked hand. Sherlock then looked to John, and there's position. He's on top and he's on the bottom. Sherlock doesn't know much about sex but he does enough reading to know what positions are used. He even threatened a blush to come, until John, thankfully spoke.

"Sherlock, are you okay?" 

"Uh... yes, yes. Sorry." 

The detective started getting along with John, then instinctively fixed his suit and coat. He looked down at John to see his face is twisted in confusion. "Sherlock. You never get distracted... What is it?"

He didn't answer right away. He's not sure why he's such a terrible liar when around John. With others, it's like taking candy from a baby. He just stared at him for a moment, then looked forward. "I was thinking...of someone." He said that last part quickly but it wasn't slow enough for John's ear. His eyes literally widen at the comment. "You...You were thinking of someone? Since when do you think of someone?"

"Guys... help?" Marcus asked with agony in his voice. 

The of siren are heard from outside. 

_Yes, an escape._

"Welp, that's George. That man really need medical attention at once..." Sherlock said plainly, as he walked quickly out of the kitchen, and out the building. "George!!! There's a bleeding man on the kitchen floor, send your least annoying paramedics to get him.""Sherlock wait!" John shouted after him.

"For Christ sake, my name is Greg." The grey headed police officer explained. "Send in the paramedics!!!" With that, a few doctors along with a mobile hospital bed by their side. "What happened here, Sherlock? I told you to keep me in the loop." 

"Your men would only slow me down, beside John and I had the situation under control. Now, I will go unless you would like to bore me again." The detective quipped, only earning a simple head nod from Greg and he walked away. John was close beside, and he could feel the warmth of his heart opposing his own bitterness. 

"Well, that was insulting. You should apologize." The doctor requested.

"Why? I merely told him that he was wasting my time." Sherlock replied, making a slight perplexed expression. John just looked at him, then chuckled, shaking his head. 

"Let's just go home..."

**~~8~~**

**221B Baker Street**

**6pm**

 

It's been two hours, and all Sherlock's been doing is working on his music, and watching John work on his blog. He's SOOOO BORED. There's nothing to do but think. Think about what is to become of him and his best friend.

_Does he feel the same?_

_Why the hell is my body betraying me?_

The music was the only thing that slightly distracted him... But it wasn't enough. He needed to solve another murder. He needed to... The bow stilled at the thought, then he placed his violin down and started scrounging around on the desk. With John directly in front of him, he stopped typing to look. "What are you doing?"he asked this obvious question, but Sherlock ignored his question in search of his only weapon. Right on time, Ms. Hudson comes in. "Hello, boy. I'm just about to go to bed. You need anything before I go?"

"No, I think we're fine, thank you." John politely retorts.

"Where's my cigarettes?! Where have you people hidden it?" Sherlock demanded, moving on to the pile of book near the fireplace.  _Maybe they hidden it in the books,_ he thought as he clawed through each volume. John expressed a long sigh as he got up and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. The detective tensed slightly to his touch and he suddenly wasn't rummaging books. He just sat there, refusing to look back into his dark ocean blue eyes. "Sherlock, we talked about this. No more. It's still early... How about you take a nap?" Sherlock creased his eyebrows together. Whether or not he might love this man, he can say the most stupidest things. He stood, and looked at his friend then to Ms. Hudson. She really caught his eye at the moment.

"Are you going out for dinner, Ms. Hudson?"

"What? No, of course not." Ms. Hudson voice slightly shiver.

"Doubtful. Your finger nail were elegantly re-coated, and your hair has been recently curled. Your skin has been washed within the hour, your eyelashes has been done, and I see you have taken a new perfume. Probably seeing someone special later... Parents, god no; they're dead. So maybe a man. " Sherlock deducted, sniffing the air. "Annick Goutal. A pricey fragrance, that I'm expecting it is only used when you have a date. Am I wrong?"

"Sherlock!" John raised his voice, making Sherlock almost cringe like a scare kitten. The detective looked to John with anxious eyes, then looked to Ms. Hudson who seemed to be exposed. 

"Excuse me." She said harshly, before walking out and slamming the door behind her. 

A sigh exhaled from Sherlock's lung, as he plopped down in his chair. He could still feel John's eye trained on him. It feel like his eyes are burning a god damn hole in his skull, so he speaks first. "What?"

_Smooth smart arse_

"You have to apologize later. That was very rude." The doctor stated, pointing at him. 

"John Watson, I envy you so much." Sherlock replied, looking back at him. He could see his friend's expression change from irritated to "Seriously?". "You envy me?" he retorts.

"Of course. Your mind is so vacant, and empty...Mine is a engine that never stop running." The detective explained.

There was a little pause, and it was filled with John pretending to think. His lips pouted out slightly, and his arched eyebrow makes him look...adorable. _Dammit, not again._ _  
_

"So if I hit you, would that turn the engine off?" John asked sarcastically with a smile plastered on his face, making Sherlock scoff lowly. The detective would have never thought he could feel so vulnerable... Why must he feel so much? It pained him that he didn't know. But looking at John's smile makes him feel another emotion. Joy. He haven't once felt utter joy since his dog, Redbeard, died. Since then, he trained himself to stop feeling. He would never be hurt again, until now.

"Right. I shall be off in my room. Do not disturb me." Sherlock stood up then walked into his room, closing the door behind him. Finally, he's all alone.  

 

 

* * *

**Blog: Entry 2**

_"I'm back, I have some interesting clues I'd like to further investigate. Today, I wanted to spend time with my friends...Sherlock, Molly, Greg, the usual. But, of course, my eager flatmate was protected and to his fortune, we had a case. Something was strange this time. The case didn't seem that difficult...Even for me. If I didn't know any better, I would think Sherlock was stalling for reasons unknown. Also, he seemed to be distracted. Not even noticing that a bloody gun has been pointed at him. His response to me was,'I was thinking about someone'. Knowing Sherlock, that means two things. Engaging with a woman just to solve a case or he's dying. Thankfully, it was neither but it was strange. Who would he be thinking about when he's about to get shot..."_

John continued typing away but he began to wonder. What was he thinking about? He couldn't be thinking about...Him...No, that's impossible. Sherlock's not gay...Right? The thought strained him. Sherlock is not like that. He doesn't feel the way others do so it's hard figuring out what his sexuality is. For a moment, John just stopped to wipe his eyes and think for a moment. 

_I am not gay._

_Sherlock is not gay._

_We don't like each other._

He repeated these sentences over and over in his mind but the more he did that, the more he felt for Sherlock. He didn't realize it nor try to neglect it, he just thought. What if? A tired groan escaped the doctor's throat as he stretched his arms in the air.  _Maybe a early rest is best,_ he thought, as he got up and closed his computer. 

_________________

My Johnlock pic:

 


	3. What is happening?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has a nightmare and now he's really feeling the emotion of fear. So he and John goes out by themselves. 
> 
> At the end of all this, Sherlock doesn't expects to see 'her'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, I like this chapter especially. It's got a little drama in it... :P :P :P Hope you guys like it.

_The skies were dark and gloomy, which is a sign of pouring showers in London. The people around Sherlock were so dull, and boring just like he always imagined them. He was the only person that had color. Everything else reminded him of death... As he walked down Baker Street, he stopped to look at his apartment. 221B, engraved on the door, but it was too black and white. It was different this time... The building looked broken down. Old. Like nobody has been there for years. The detective looked around when he came inside. The walls of the hallways were_ _severely_ _chipped, the stairs were broken._

_"Ms. Hudson?"_

_No response. She would've been scurried her way to him._

_"John?"_

_Sherlock practically ran upstairs, not even caring whether the stairs broken under him. The railing is scratched away the finished wood, and the door is open. He could see the inside of their apartment so he runs in to see a familiar figure standing with his umbrella. "Mycroft? Why are you here?"_

_"You are so stupid, little brother." His brother said. "So stupid to fall in love."_

_"Who said it was love. It is merely a chemical science that does not effect me."_

_Sherlock quipped, trying to convince himself that it isn't love. Mycroft just laughed, turning around to meet eyes with his brother. All he could see is the little boy, he used to bother when they were children. "Remember what we said about love."_

_"Love is a human error."_

_"Exactly!"_

_Sherlock shivered at the tone, so he closed his eyes to try to block him out. It was only for a moment, but when he reopened them, he was in a cell with a man curled up in ball. He had a straitjacket, and he whispered a song. "You!" The detective pointed, leaning against the opposite wall. "How could you never feel?!" The figure shook his head and whispered more rubbish.  
_

_"Oh Sherlock...You ordinary people are so adorable."_

_Jim Moriarty sprinted over to Sherlock until the chain yielded him, directly in front of Sherlock. He was so close, the detective could feel his breath brush against his lips. "Johnny's going to leave you. EVERYONE IS GOING TO LEAVE YOU!!!!"_

Sherlock eyes instantly popped opened, and he yelled "John!" multiple times... His vision was bit blurry but when he rubbed his eyes, he was in his room. The day has hardly started from lack of sun;It's still dark. His lungs were expanding way too fast to be normal, and his black hair was matted against his forehead. The dream felt so real...He felt like he was losing his mind. _Why do I have to feel?_ He thought, as he wiped his watery eyes. He heard footsteps coming from outside, then John burst into the room with gun. "Sherlock?! What happened?" 

"Nothing... Go back to sleep, John." Sherlock said in a monotone, as he laid back, turning his back away from his friend. 

"You welcome." John sighed, then walked out.

* * *

 

**Blog: Entry 3**

_"This is very strange. This is day 2 (At 3am) and Sherlock has a nightmare. Not a normal one, either. He was shouting my name when he woke up. My name. Why the hell would he shout my name in a nightmare? He was sweating, panting...Everything symptom a normal person would have after-"_

John stopped typing when he relieved what he was going to type. _No...he wouldn't have a nightmare about me and sex? Would he?_

_He would._

_Bloody hell, he would._

John didn't know what else to write on his private blog (that nobody know about), so he just stopped and shut the computer like a scared child that seen something horrific. The doctor wiped his face at the thought, because,  _What he is thinking?_ He thought. If it was about him and sex, he needed to know. Maybe he could take Sherlock out later. Probably take him to a restaurant to talk. John nodded at the idea. "That's what I'll do, then."

**~~8~~**

**Day 2: December 19th**

**10am**

 

That morning, Sherlock was dead quiet. He wore grey sweatpants, a white shirt and his dark blue robe to complete the set. To distract him he recreated the experiment of heating an eyeball to 500 °C. He already know what going to happen. The eye is going to steam up and simmer. Though, he'd anything he could do not to bored because for one, it's hard not smoking. Two, he needed to get his mind off of last night. John was watching the old telly, wearing yet another Christmas sweater. Something about getting Christmas or what not. Nothing spectacular, really. The situation with Sherlock having a nightmare was never talked about but he could see how John started to baby him since then. He's been bringing him tea, asking many times whether he's okay... It's sweet but Sherlock keeps convincing himself that he is perfect. He doesn't need cuddling. _~~Lies~~  
_

Sherlock took off his goggles, and turned off the blowtorch. He placed it on the table, rest next to the steaming eyeball. "BORED."

"What happened to your science experiment?" 

"Only taking a break. I am reaching promising result with the eye. It simmered even." Sherlock explained with an imitation of excitement. 

"Uh-huh...Where did you put the eye?" 

John didn't even have to turn around to know that Sherlock put it on the table. The detective just scowled as he walked over to the counter and putting his glove  _back_ on to place the eye on an napkin. "There." "Thank. You." he replied.

Sherlock looked down at John then smiled slightly for some reason. He didn't know why his stomach fluttered at the sight, but it was quite annoying, yet...lovely. He walked over and sat down in his usual chair. He stared at the TV, then suddenly a word kept pestering him. "BORED!!!!!!" Then John looked at him, curiously because without even knowing Sherlock had his feet hanging back and his head was where his feet were. He was literally upside down on his chair. The detective obviously didn't know how he got here but he did make eye contact with John. "That just happened."

John pressed his lips into a thin line, then opened his mouth but no sound came out. "Uh... Sherlock. Mate?" John stuttered. "Would you like to go out? To a restaurant, I mean." 

Sherlock straightened up in his chair, properly, and said, "Alright. Where to?"

"Um, I'll decide." John stood up and stretched his limbs. "Go get dressed. I'll call a cab." After that was said, Sherlock made his way back to his room. He got dressed in his usual suit but this time, he wore a purple dress shirt just because it's John's favourite color. He at himself in his mirror and saw someone different. He didn't know what was different but he knew something was unusual about his reflection. Sherlock shrugged then threw on his trench coat and scarf, and walked out the door to hear John still talking. He stopped, thinking that it wouldn't take that long to order a cabby. So he listened.

"Why are you asking about Sherlock?" John asked.

"Oh...Just wondering how my brother is." Mycroft said in his monotone voice. 

"He's fine, of course." 

"Oh, really? I have eyes everywhere John, I know when my brother is acting strange." he retorted. "Weren't you two going somewhere?"

Sherlock frowned then walked in the room, towards John and snatching the phone out of John's hand. "Sherlock! What the hell are you doing?" 

His friend demanded, but Sherlock was too angry with his brother to respond. He held the phone to his ear. "I am not a child, Mycroft! Stop checking on me."

"Hm... Nope. You're different. You've grown attached again." He said plainly, ignoring that fact that his brother is going to kill him. 

"Mycroft!" 

"Fine. I will leave you be... Send my love to John, will you." And with that, Mycroft hung up. Sherlock growled, wanting to break the phone but John's hand on his shoulder soothed him. The detective looked to John with rage filled eyes. "Why did he call you?" He asked, while handing his phone back. His friend just shrugged.

"It's nothing." He lied. John glanced back out the window and saw the cab. "We have to go." He tried to walk past Sherlock but no. The detective needed answers, so he grabbed John's wrist tightly and looked dead into his ice blue eyes. 

"Please, John." 

The doctor heard his plea and all he could do was sigh, and let his head fall a little. "He said you've changed. Acting strange or something..." Sherlock scowled in response, letting go of him to wipe his face. Knowing his brother, he probably knows about his (debatable) romance with John. And _knowing_ Mycroft, he would probably tell others about it too. 

"Ugh. I hate my brother." He grumbled like a child. "I have to go." 

Sherlock headed towards the door and down the stairs. Of course, John followed him quickly and before the detective could walk out, his friend grabs his shoulder. "What are you going to do? What is this about?" 

"I'm going to have a word with my brother." Sherlock fumed, avoiding his view. 

"Sherlock." John said in a gentle tone. He walked in front of Sherlock, and placed his hand on the curve of his slender neck. The detective's eyes widen in surprise.  _Since when did John get so affectionate,_ Sherlock thought, but he didn't exactly protest. He actually liked how his firm yet gentle had was place so perfectly. "You have many other times to speak with him. So shut up, stop being a drama queen and come with me." John requested and all Sherlock could do was nod. John removed his hand, and they awkwardly stared at each other. They didn't know why, so Sherlock just cleared his throat. 

"To be clear, you are also a drama queen." He quickly said before walking out, followed by his chuckling friend. They both entered the car, John told the driver and they were on his way. Sherlock couldn't help to think about Mycroft. No matter how much he tried not to. John and Sherlock wasn't talking so Sherlock brought his hands together and went into his Mind Palace. 

_"You're so stupid, little brother. For falling in love." He could hear Mycroft's voice behind him. "What did we say about? Love is a-"_

_"Human error, I know, that's why I'm not in love. I merely have grown fond of John, and his qualities." Sherlock replied, trying to convince himself of such._

_Mycroft just laughed, walking up to him. "You can't fight it, Sherlock. Remember the love you had for 'Redbeard' "_

_There was a pause. Sherlock does remember him. He loved Redbeard with all his heart. How dare Mycroft use that against him? He frowned then snapped out of his trance._

Sherlock reopened his eyes to the environment outside. It was snowing lightly from the state of the mirrors, so he flipped up his collar. He then looked to John, watching how his eyes were focus on whatever he saw. Seeing him like this made Sherlock's head spin. He was calm, relaxed... Just as he remembered the first day they met. Well, he was irritated yes but astonished of Sherlock's gift. He smiled at the thought, and unfortunately John turned to him. "What are you smiling about?"

The detective went instantly poker face, and said, "Nothing. Just thinking."

The cab ride didn't last long, they stopped in front of this little restaurant called "Ask Italian". Not that far from Baker Street. Sherlock looked opened the door, and looked at it, and made a 'hmm' sound. "I don't remember this." _Probably deleted it._ He thought as he walked in.

"I guess, I'm paying then!"

Sherlock chuckled in response, so the least he could do was open the door. John quickly took advantage, and walked in. A blonde waitress nicely greeted them and showed them to a table near the window. They both shared glances then awkwardly laughed as they sat down. "So..." John started extending the 'o' drastically. 

"So, what?" Sherlock asked, not even picking up the menu. He already know what he wants at a Italian restaurant.  _ ~~Spaghetti, duh.~~_

"Christmas. You have any plans?" John asked, as he browsed through the menu.

"The only plans I have is to solve murders." He replied.

"But it's Christmas." His friend whined, placing the menu down. 

"I know.." Sherlock grinned but then he realized what he actually. "Oh, you actually mean it's Christmas." He saw how John's expression became more irritated so he sighed, and hesitantly grasped his hand. "I'm sorry." 

In that moment, he could have swore he saw John blush. And from touching his hand, he 'accidentally' check his pulse, only to feel that it has risen. Sherlock realized he was slow on the matter but is it possible that...John Hamish Watson is in love...with Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock hummed quietly at the thought, then he let go of John's hand. He was about to say something, but then the waitress came by. Sherlock looked at her, and how she looked more so at him than John. She even trailed her finger around his hand, trying to get Sherlock's attention. He was indeed flattered, but clearly not interested.

"Sherlock?"

"Hm..."

"She asked what would you like?" John clarified.

"Oh, yes... A glass of ice water, and spaghetti." He requested. The waitress smirked as he wrote down the orders, then walked away. John then mumbled something Sherlock couldn't catch. "What?"

"Nothing..." John lied, trying to fake a smile.

_Jealousy? That's new._

"I don't think so? When the waitress came you became more defensive. You're more eager for her to leave. And from your creased eyebrows and scowl, it would probably mean your..." Sherlock was about to finish but John held up his finger. 

"Shut up." 

Sherlock removed his hand, and raised an eyebrow. "What? I made a simple deduction..."

"Well, sometimes your deductions can be very obnoxious." He quipped, harshly.

_Bollocks...Nice going Sherlock._

"Right." He whispered, then looked out the window. There was a woman standing across the street, holding a camera. Sherlock couldn't see her face but her body...She looked familiar. But he ignored his assumption.  

Sherlock _was_ hurt at his remark but he didn't show it. Though, he did respect his wishes. He shut up. There was a silence between them for the rest of the evening. Neither of them wanted to speak to each other. Sherlock was slightly disappointed about this. He wanted to say sorry at least but he couldn't bring himself to it. It was probably his old self holding him back. He cursed at himself for making it so hard. Sherlock could solve any and every problem that was thrown his way but he couldn't for one second figure out what the hell is wrong with him. He couldn't figure out whether or not John like him or he likes John. Everything was confusing. It feels like his mind is drunk and he can't stop it. When they left, he heard waitresses giggling saying that they were a cute couple. John just shrugged them off but Sherlock... He thought about it. Is that what people think they were. A bloody couple? What happened to partners?! Sherlock groaned at his own conclusions.

John waved his hand towards the taxi and opened the door. "Come on." 

"No. You go..." He retorted.

John walked to Sherlock. "If this is about what happened early, I'm sorry."

He did want to smile for his apology but he still couldn't go with him. "Go John. I'll be there shortly."

"Okay. Be careful...Oh! I need to tell you something when you get back." John stated abruptly and from his face, he didn't mean it to sound so weird.

"You can't tell me now?" Sherlock asked.

"No. It's something... I need to speak with you in private." Sherlock wondered what he would be telling him so he just nodded. 

John nodded, and entered the cab and drove off into the snowy abyss. Sherlock sighed, feeling the brisk air cut past his face, and snowflake on his nose. He never told anyone but this was his favourite time of the year. Which sounds stereotypical because of Christmas but it's not. He liked the snow ever since he was a child. Mycroft would always bother him about it...He said that the evil reptile that meant to be killed. Meaning Sherlock. Yes, he was a rubbish brother though he was right about one thing. He was the reptile that never felt anything. A cold blooded man...Until now. Sherlock sighed at the thought, as he readjusted his collar. Suddenly a startled shivered rattled his spine, so he stopped and looked around. He could hardly see anything. The snow got thicker by the minute so he quicken his pace. Then he actually heard heels clicking against the snowy pavement. He didn't have time to turn before he felt a pinch in his shoulder. He looked down at his arm to see a woman's hand holding a needle. When he looked at her, he knew he should've recognized her at first.

_What is happening?!_

_Why is everything happening to me?_

"Irene?" The last words he said before falling to the ground. Two men walked past and grabbed Sherlock from under his armpit. His mouth was parted and vision was blurry but he could see Irene walk slowly and seductively towards Sherlock and traced her long, soft fingers against his chiseled cheekbone and whispered, "Shh... Don't be alarmed, my love. I just want to...talk..."

_Then...Darkness_

\----

Johnlock Picture:

Irene and Sherlock (Idlock for my shippers): 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter is short... But I needed to have a foundation for what's to come. Irene Alder!! I couldn't wait to bring her in the chapter. Though, this brings the questions.  
> What is she doing here?  
> Why is she taking Sherlock away?!  
> Are Mycroft and Irene working together!?
> 
> I know, I'm just torturing you guys. It's what I do. Till next chapter.  
> PS: The next chapter will be mostly from John's view.

**Author's Note:**

> OOOHH, For each chapter of the story, I will add a Johnlock picture!! Hope ya don't mind.


End file.
